Take This to Your Grave
by you-know-how-i-do
Summary: Bella isn't normal, and Renee isn't giving her any answers. A stranger takes interest in her abnormalities and gives her a job as a vampire interviewer for reasons she's dying to know. BXE
1. Dead On Arrival

_Prologue:_

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but then again don't actions speak louder than words. I used to believe my life story was nothing special and at a certain point in my life, there was no statement I could agree with more than that—the life stories of my clients were more than your average fairy tale; in some cases they could even pass as nightmares. I didn't choose this job; it picked me and for that, I am grateful.

It started with a man who witnessed one of my abnormalities that my mother and I have grown accustomed to as I grew up. He didn't explain why he was interested in me; he just gave me his business card and told me to call him if I was interested. I would've never guessed what was in store for me nor would I've believed it if it were so bluntly stated to me.

I never understood what my job was for or why the histories of others were so important; most importantly, I didn't know why I was chosen for this position—not then at least. I mean, what was the point in interviewing vampires anyway? What were they gaining from that or more importantly what were they gaining from me?

_Chapter One: Dead On Arrival_

My mother's wedding day is today. I'm happy for her; i really am, but I'm not happy. There's no joyous feeling in the sense that today is going to be an exciting day. To be honest, I'm dreading the wedding. I know I sound selfish. My mother deserves happiness, and who am I to keep that from her? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm scared. Phil's a great guy, don't get me wrong, and so was Charlie, but look what happened between them; they divorced after only a couple of years. I guess what I'm actually afraid of is change; I just don't feel as if everything will be the same after all of this is over.

It's times like these that I need a father, not just any father, but my father. I never met him, but I just feel as if these types of moments are the ones when I need him. Don't get me wrong, Renee is a wonderful mother and I share practically everything with her, but sometimes I just need someone else to talk to and share my thoughts with. I know it seems selfish; there are people out there that don't have either of their parents and here i am complaining about the absence of my real father, but sometimes I feel as if that's what I need—my father.

He makes her happy, happier than I've ever seen her in a long time, but it just doesn't seem as if she'll be my mom anymore. I mean, yes, technically she is the woman who gave birth to me and took care of me all 17 years of my life, but she won't just be my mom; she'll be his wife too. I'm being selfish again. What's the matter with me? It's not as if I'm going to lose her forever. Things will just be a little... different.

I sighed as the hired make up artist applied the last strokes of blush to my cheeks. I didn't really need the blush, since my cheeks turned red rather often—more often then I'd like—but it looked decent enough, nonetheless. My hair was in an up doe with curls dangling from the messy bun on top of my head. It looked nice, but it wasn't how I'd ever manipulate my hair. The style was too elegant for my taste and formal enough to attend a wedding in it; maybe I'm overreacting. The hairstylist did a wonderful job; I shouldn't be criticizing her about how I wouldn't wear my hair. This wasn't supposed to be for me; this was for Renee.

What I should be criticizing is the dress she decided to pick out. I know bridesmaid's dresses are known to be tasteless and tacky, but this dress couldn't compliment any normal person's body. There were too many ruffles and bows; the amount of lace was overwhelming and the color was horrendous. I'm not much for fashion, but all I can say is this color pink reminds me of vomit, and vomit isn't usually pink to begin with. Overall, the dress looks like something a five-year-old would come up with, but that's Renee, my five-year-old mother. I guess I'm being a little harsh. The dress can't be that bad.

My room was empty by now, the hairstylist and make up artists probably left moments ago seeing as I wasn't the type ideal company people favored, and my mother still needed to get ready along with the rest of her bridesmaids. I stood and looked this way and that, while twisting the skirt of my dress with my hands in front of the mirror that was in my room as I desperately tried to find an angle where the dress didn't look so hideous. It wasn't working so I dropped the skirt with a sigh and sat back down at my dressing table.

The dress could never be pulled off by someone like me. There was just no way. My mother's other bridesmaids were so beautiful, though—they could've worn rags and still looked runway model material. It was positively unfair; they were just so stunning. Somehow, they manage to inherit this gorgeousness, an alien beauty that lowered my self-esteem and heightened my jealousy. I wonder if all people in Alaska looked like them.

I wish I were that beautiful. Don't get me wrong. I know I'm not ugly or anything, just nothing special. My appearance was rather dull. I'm aware beauty isn't skin deep, but sometimes I wish I were beautiful on the outside. I sound so vain right now; it's so wrong. My thoughts shouldn't be going in that direction. Abruptly, my door swung open with my mother bustling in quickly behind it.

"Oh honey, you look so beautiful." She said with full sincerity, but then quickly moved on with what she really wanted. Stress usually keeps her from beating around the bush; if she wasn't stressed out about her wedding, this conversation could have taken quite a while. "One of the straps broke on the shoes for my dress, and I know you told me to get a back up pair, but I couldn't pick which back up pair to get so I just got them both. So, which one do you like better?"

She lifted her skirt and posed with each foot to show off the two rather different styles I had as choices. The one on my right had two classic white straps that ran across the knuckles of her toes and her lower foot. The one on my left was blinding. The heel was much higher and the straps were encrusted with dozens of swarovski crystals. The glittering straps ran across the knuckles of her toes, up the top middle of her foot and wrapped around her ankle. The second one was beautiful, but I had a soft spot for the first classy, less shiny, shoe. If I knew Renee as I thought I knew her, my opinion wouldn't really matter all that much in the decision, but I said what I thought anyway.

"I like the one on my right." I told her as I motioned toward the shoe I picked. Her eyes showed that the shoe I picked wasn't the one she wanted me to choose.

"Yeah, that one's nice, but don't you think the other one is a bit more suitable for the wedding. I mean, they match my accessories perfectly, and their just so beautiful."

"Then wear those."

"The other ones are pretty too, though. I mean, you even said you liked them better. I don't know; I just can't decide."

"Mom, we both know that you really want to wear the second pair, so why don't we just skip the rest of this argument and go right to the outcome. Wear those; they look perfect on you." I tried to sound as convincing as I could, but I knew it wasn't enough so I cheated a little. "I think Phil will love them on you." Mentally, I cringed at that last statement. I didn't like talking about Phil and it made me feel uncomfortable to bring him up for my own purpose of cutting this chitchat with my mother short.

"Oh, you really think so? I'm so excited Bella; it's just—he's so perfect, and the way he treats me, oh, it just makes me feel so much younger, you know?"

"Yeah, mom, he's a really nice guy for you."

"He is; isn't he? I was thinking—

"Renee, the limo's here. You don't want to miss your own wedding; do you?" As one of Renee's other bridesmaids, Carmen, interrupted our conversation, I let out a small sigh of relief. It's not that I don't enjoy conversing with Renee, it's just I had a feeling I wouldn't appreciate where it was heading.

"Oh, then let's go." Renee said with a smile as she quickly stood and began towards the door of my room. "Common' Bella, I can't get married without my maid of honor." She joked in the doorway and waited for me to follow.

I got up and headed towards my mother; I must've moved too quickly for her liking for she gave me a stern look. This was a reoccurring problem for me since as long as I could remember. I was rather fast for most people whether it was my reflexes or just normal walking; I've never noticed my increased pace because I was so accustomed to it, but my mother always took every chance she could get to reprimand me for some reason.

I guess it made her feel more like my mom than my friend or maybe she didn't want others to notice my abnormal speed. Either way I tried to slowly walk down the hallway with my mother to the outside world of Phoenix; I must've been doing something right for she gave me a smile in return as we continued towards the limo under the oddly overcast sky.

**AN: I know it's not the most interesting thing you've ever read, but the way**** Bella thinks is important and the wedding kick starts everything. Read and review please. Tell me what you like and don't like. What parts of my writing should I work on? Is my grammar and punctuation atrocious? Was the summary of my story a yawn fest? I appreciate constructive criticism, but don't go overboard and start yelling at me about how dumb and uncreative I am. I hope you all enjoyed what you read.**

_Disclaimer: this is fan**fiction** I don't own any of these characters. I will be sure to advise you if I throw in one of my own characters, but as of right now all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The story title and this chapter title belongs to Fall Out Boy. I hope I didn't leave anything out. :D_


	2. For A Pessimist I'm Pretty Optimistic

_Chapter Two: For a Pessimist I'm Pretty Optimistic_

My bottom lip kept finding its way between my teeth as I picked at my cuticles with my fingers and absentmindedly rocked back and forth in my seat, while we were all in the limo on our way to my mother's wedding. Speaking of Renee, she was sitting next to me with the largest grin I've ever seen displayed across her face.

I was so nervous about the speech I'd have to give at the reception that it took me quite a while to notice that my vision kept going in and out of focus. I couldn't concentrate on anything specific, and it wasn't helping when another one of my mother's bridesmaids, this one named Tanya, was watching me intently as my heart rate increased under her scrutinizing gaze.

She was so stunning with her oddly colored golden eyes and her strawberry blonde hair, which was in a similar fashion to mine. I tried not to gawk at her, but it was hard for reasons that were unclear to me. I wanted to look away—I really did, but I couldn't; it was as if I was paralyzed in her trance until she decided our staring contest was over.

To say I was uneasy about this situation would be an understatement; I was completely horrified at the fact that I wasn't even able to control my own body. When she diverted her eyes to something more interesting than my entranced state, I promptly looked to the floor.

That wasn't the first time that scenario had occurred with one of my mom's friends and I had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. For some reason it seemed as though in order to qualify as a friend of my mother's, one had to be young, beautiful, and captivating. I was probably only accepted as a friend along with my daughter role for one reason only; I was related to her. She couldn't pick who her biological daughter was and she had to make the best of it. What am I saying? My mother wasn't like that; I was being stupid.

As we neared the church where the ceremony would be held, I started feeling the immense hunger pains. I was famished. I tried to remember the last time I had eaten. It was about an hour ago; that was a long time for me. Ever since I could remember, my metabolism has been a little more than out of the ordinary.

My mother never seemed phased by this and always brushed it off as signs that I was still growing, but when I stopped growing a few years ago, she realized she couldn't use that excuse anymore. Now, she just dismisses the topic, claiming that I needed to try and understand how it brought up unwanted memories. I could never understand how my eating habits could possibly trigger bad memories for my mother, but I always dropped the subject for her sake.

My starvation grew rapidly as saliva began flooding my mouth and throat and my stomach growled like a madman. I felt utterly embarrassed as all four of my mother's bridesmaids turned to me at the sound of my stomach.

"Didn't I see you eating before the stylists came to the house?" Katrina asked me incredulously with an outline of confusion and suspicion in her eyes.

"That was over an hour ago." I answered as I tried to brush it off as if it was normal, which for me this was.

"You had five burritos and nearly a liter of soda; how could all of that have passed through your entire system in a little over an hour?" Her continuing question caused me to rethink how my own bodily functions worked. The only conclusion I could come up with was that I couldn't control what my body did whether it was with voluntary or involuntary motions.

"Well, it didn't pass through my entire system just yet—

"Bella's stomach has always been a bottomless pit ever since she was merely a baby." I was glad my mother interrupted me. I didn't want to be rude to her friends, but the sarcastic remarks were itching to come out and they would've if she hadn't cut me off.

Katrina's statement also made me realize that I needed a bathroom pronto. From then on, the ride to the church was quiet except for the continuing noises my stomach was making and the distinct sound of me shuffling in my seat, while I tried to find a comfortable position to reduce the feeling of my filled bladder.

No later than when the thought to ask the limo driver to stop so I could hike up my dress and relieve myself in the woods passed my mind did we emerge into the parking lot of the church. The nervous jitters came back and I wasn't even the one getting married.

* * *

  
Everything was such a blur until now as I took a few deep breathes and walked over the red carpet towards the priest and the best men. That's when it hit me full force. Between the priest and the best men there was supposed to be someone and not just any someone. This someone was special and quite important to the whole marriage thing. Phil wasn't here, and I was panicking.

I dreaded the look on my mother's face as she realized he wasn't standing at the end of the isle waiting for her. I also didn't want to think about the rather loud whispers that would erupt when both groups of families and friends realized what would cause her sudden heart broken facial expression and the river of tears that would pour from her face as she sobbed for another man that walked out on her.

She was always so emotional about her love life and I would positively loathe seeing her cry over this man as she did with Charlie. Even though I knew her divorce with Charlie wasn't the only reason—or the primary reason—for her depressing state, I still couldn't bear to have her feel like that again.

At this newfound determination, I stopped short in my slow march towards the priest and turn around to warn Renee of the awaiting situation. As I was walking back towards the church doors with my eyes facing towards the ground, I accidentally bumped into what I would've presumed as a brick wall if I wasn't aware of my surroundings.

When my eyes glanced up to confirm what I had collided with, I was met with the confused face of Tanya. Reflexively, I tore my gaze away from her butterscotch eyes and passed the rest of the bridesmaids as I worked my way back towards my mother.

"Bella, honey, what are you doing? You're supposed to be down there by now. Didn't you pay attention at all during the rehearsal?" She said with a nervous laugh, which was then followed by a serious look.

"Phil's not here." I didn't know what else to say. What was I thinking, just blurting it out like that. Confusion covered her face at my statement.

"What are you talking about Bella? Phil's right—

As she looked around me to the end of the isle, she noticed the empty space between the priest and the best men. "…Phil's not here…" She confirmed in a soft voice as her face dropped and her expression became heart broken. I quickly shut my eyes and turned my face away before the sobs and the water works started up. I just couldn't stand seeing her like this.

As if on cue, I heard her soft sobs wrack through her body, and instinctively, I held onto my mother with my eyes slightly open as I walked her out of the view of all of the awaiting eyes who were watching for her entrance. The wedding march continued to play, but I couldn't exactly hear it for my mom's cries were filling my ears. I tried to calm her down by feeding her reassuring words.

"It's okay mom, really. He wasn't the best guy, anyway. You'll find another. You were too good for him; he didn't deserve you."

This seemed to only make her sob harder so I decided to go in a new direction with this one-sided conversation.

"Maybe something happened; he could've gotten lost or maybe there's a lot of traffic. There could've been an accident, or maybe he just got sidetracked or something"

I realized this wasn't working either as I let out a sigh. I decided to just tell her how I felt about this situation. What else could I say after all?

"Maybe… maybe this was for the best. Maybe, you two weren't meant to be together. Maybe, this marriage wasn't fate and something better will come from this. You used to always tell me how whenever one door closed two more opened, or that one that said when life gave you lemons you just had to make lemonade. Maybe, you need to just use your lemons and make some lemonade. You know; make the best of what you have. You still have me; I won't leave you."

Her sobs seemed to die down and her tears began to run out. She looked up at me with a sincere, yet sad smile.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. If this were meant to be, I'd be a married woman by now. I need to make the best of what I have, and I have you. I need to do what's best for you." Her voice was serious as she rearranged my words.

"That's not what I said. Mom, what I meant was—

"I know what you meant, sweetie, but this is what I have to do. I can't keep you with me for my own selfish ways." Her words were rushed; she wasn't making sense. She just had her fiancée disappear before her wedding; she must not be thinking straight.

"Wait, mom, what danger? There's no danger in Phoenix. I mean, I know the crime rates aren't the best, but—

"That's not the kind of danger I was talking about Bella. I won't have you in danger in place of my loneliness anymore. I should've been more worried about your well-being than mine."

"So what you're saying is even if you did get married you wouldn't keep me? That you were only getting married so you'd have company after you sent me away?" I was outraged but even more than that I was hurt. Betrayal washed over me as her words sank in and I took them for what they were. She didn't want me; she never did. She only wanted my companionship, someone to keep her from loneliness.

"No, Bella, you don't understand—

"No, mom, I understand perfectly. You don't want me." I didn't hear what she said after that; the only thing I could hear was the wind whooshing past my ears as I ran. I ran as fast as I knew how and then I ran faster.

* * *

**AN: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Everything about Renee's motives and her friendship with the Denali coven will be revealed later in the story so you don't have to worry about not understanding that right now.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. This never happened; this is fan**fiction**. The title of this chapter belongs to Paramore._


	3. The Great Escape

_Chapter Three: The Great Escape_

I ran to the only place I could think to go; I ran home. I really wanted to go somewhere else—anywhere else—but I'm not one of those lucky teenagers with a home away from home at my best friend's house or even one with a best friend for that matter. I just wish the run home would've taken longer, that way I would've had more time to clear my head, because all of these thoughts are whirling around in my brain and I'm not sure which one to pay attention to first. And then I saw the note, crisp and neat sitting on the kitchen counter.

Went out—be back later.

—Phil

"Went out?" "be back later?"—what person in their right mind would leave a note like that on his wedding day—and it's not even in his own handwriting! There's no way his chicken scratch magically transformed into elegant script that slip of paper. Something's wrong, because, if everything was fine, then I wouldn't have this feeling that he's not coming back; that's he's being kept against his will.

I guess it's really none of my business though. I'm not related to him; I don't know him well at all. Who knows what kind of skeletons he has in his closet or what sort of karma came and bit him in the butt. He's an adult; he can handle himself. It's not like the police are really going to believe me if I tell them a 28-year-old man has been kidnapped; people abduct children and teenagers—not adults. Plus, what evidence do I have? A gut feeling, my mere intuition—that's not the type of evidence they'll take seriously. It doesn't matter; he should be fine.

What I do know is: Renee is not getting married today. She's not getting married to _Phil_—pro. She's not happy because she's not getting married to Phil—con. Renee's shipping me off somewhere else; she doesn't want me—double con.

The sound of the front door interrupted my thoughts.

"Honey, I'm so glad you're here. I was worried that I was going to have to go looking for you, and I had no idea where I'd even start!"

"Yes mom, I'm here; for how long, I'm not sure, but I'm here." I sarcastically remarked.

She spuriously begged, "Don't be like that Bella—"

"Don't be like what mom—angry that you're getting rid of me for no reason, or upset that you won't tell me what's been upsetting you—and don't say Phil—he wasn't even in the picture when you started acting this way!"

"Acting what way?" She asked, but her face told a different story; she knew quite well what I was getting at.

"Why you're acting so secretive about everything! You don't explain anything to me when you know damn well that half the things you say to me call for some sort of clarification. I'm practically an adult; I think I have the right to know."

She paused, and her expression told me she knew I was right. "You shouldn't curse, Bella." She said, patronizingly.

"Is that really all you're going to say?" I asked, exasperated.

"I don't understand why I should tell you anything if you're going to continue to disrespect me." She said in defense.

"I'm sorry" I said, even though I wasn't. "But why—"

"It's dangerous here, Bella. People aren't all as nice as they seem." She warned.

"What, you're afraid some guy is going to kidnap or rape me? I have pepper spray; would it make you feel better if I carried a gun?" I asked sarcastically.

She scrunched her face at my distasteful attempt at humor. "Guns don't work on some people."

"Name one person who wouldn't be harmed after getting shot!" I challenged even though I knew she wasn't going to answer.

"It's settled Bella, you'll move to Forks and live with Charlie."

"I'm going to Forks? How can it already be settled? You just banished me less than an hour ago!" I objected

"Charlie adopted you while we were married. He's as much a legal guardian to you as I am."

"Yes, I know the technicalities, but why Forks, why now?"

"We've been planning for you to go to Forks for a while now, but I've had a hard time letting go of you. You're my only daughter after all."

"But what will I do there? Why can't I stay here?"

"You'll finish out your senior year there; you'll go to college. Everything will be okay"

"They'll never take me; the years practically up. I only have a few months left of school." I defended as if my being right about school would keep me here. Her mind was made up; I wasn't staying.

"They'll take you. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm far from worried—"

"Good. Now, go pack; your plane leaves in 5 hours."

"5 hours? You've bought a plan ticket already?" I asked incredulously.

"Go pack." She sternly replied.

And so I did. After all, what choice did I really have?

I landed in Olympia by nigh fall. Charlie was waiting for me outside the gate slumped over in his chair; I wonder how long he's been there. He sprang up when he saw me emerge from the crowd—why are there so many people flying to Olympia anyway?

"Hey Bells, how was your flight?" He asked in a chipper voice.

"Fine" I replied as we grabbed my bags and made our way to his car. He has always been so genuinely nice that I felt guilty being rude to him. I mean, he didn't do anything from what I know of; he's just here being his regular old self. I can't blame him for that; I can't blame him for anything, but I do.

If he didn't exist, I wouldn't be here. If he didn't marry Renee, if he didn't legally adopt me, if he didn't consent to me moving here, then I'd be home safe and sound; everything would be _normal_.

Well, maybe not. Renee would still be secretive, I'd still have this migraine from trying to decipher her motives, and I probably wouldn't be in Phoenix. Well, I guess I'd better make the best of this, whatever this is. He parked in the driveway and we unloaded my stuff out of the car and brought it inside of his house.

"Which room is mine?" I asked with mild interest.

"Upstairs and to the right" He answered as he trailed behind me with the rest of my luggage. I dropped my bags by the door—my door—and he did the same and left with a quick "School's on Monday. Sleep tight." It's the little things like that that keep me from hating Charlie. You don't have to awkwardly ask him to leave or wait until he gets the hint; he just knows. He's considerate. I'm thankful for that. Almost as thankful as I am that tomorrow is Sunday; at least I'll have one day to myself before I become the new girl in school.

I looked around my room; it was nothing special. There was a desk with an ancient computer against one wall, a twin size bed against the other, and a window on the wall between them. I sat on the window sill and looked out at the backyard. The town of Forks is nothing like Phoenix.

* * *

After the first week, school was bearable again. In the beginning, I was the shiny new object that no one could get their eyes off of, but by the following Monday I was old news; I was grateful for that. It's harder to endure a place when it feels like everyone is looking at you under a microscope; I'd much rather blend into the background. I haven't made many friends in Forks. I'm not very good at talking to new people, and the people that were comfortable enough to approach me were only curious enough to get my story. What's your name? Where are you from? Why'd you move here? The same old questions asked a million different ways. It's like taking the same survey over and over again; the questions never change so you find yourself spicing up your answers in order to keep yourself entertained. _What's your name?_ Natasha Wolfe. _Where are you from?_ Transylvania. _Why'd you move here?_ There were too many vampires who wanted to suck my blood.

That probably wouldn't have gone well; I bet they would have taken me seriously though. I stayed close to the basics, but I did once throw in something about being part albino; I'm pretty sure they believed it.

I got a part time job to pass the time, and Charlie was nice enough to get me a car; a heavily used old truck, but it still worked.

School passed, my birthday passed, and, to my disbelief, graduation passed. I didn't go to college; I didn't even apply. I used the money I saved up from my job to buy a crappy apartment out in the lower parts of Port Angeles to Charlie's dismay. He didn't want me to go. Who would cook for him? I know that's not the main reason he wanted me to stay, but I knew I couldn't.

I was 18; I needed to grow up so I got out and got out quick—too quick. I didn't know what I was in for when I moved to the city; I lived in Phoenix, which is a larger city than Port Angeles will ever be, but I never lived there _alone_. I shouldn't have gone out that first night there. I should have waited until the morning to go check to see if I unpacked everything from my truck and locked it. My truck would've been fine; it's nowhere near nice enough to rob. But I did go out, and that was a mistake.

* * *

**AN: I completely forgot about this account/story, but I've reread it and I actually didn't hate the first two chapters I had written so I mapped out the story and cranked out this chapter. I beta'd this myself so hopefully It's not too grammatically incorrect.**

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They belong to Stephenie Meyer. This never happened; this is fan**fiction**. The title of this chapter belongs to Boys Like Girls._


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